Rise of Shadow
by Gellow
Summary: Following the Knight Captain as she slices her way through the last few battles to the King of Shadows, then picking up where the evil aligned ending left off, RoS is Esther Blake's story as she becomes the feared Shadow General, emotional drama and all.
1. We Sat and Talked

[AN: This (will eventually) follow on from the evil ending of the OC, which MotB sadly denied me. So, obviously, from a point onwards I'll be making stuff up. Please, forgive me in advance. Rated M for fights and language to follow.

The wind up on the walls was cold and bitter, but Esther found it fitting as she sat with her Keep at her back and her legs dangling over the edge of the wall, tapping occasionally to an off beat. She'd shed her armour and cloak, content with feeling the cold work its way into her bones and her very soul, finding it calming. In a few hours, they'd be going for the bridges, and despite her knowledge that sleep would be hard to come by in the days to come, she was restless.

The breeze picked up and with it came the all too familiar smell of burning and bodies, and yet the houses below looked peaceful, small plumes of smoke rising from chimneystacks as fires burnt down. Despite her uncaring attitude, Esther felt like she had to do something for the people who trusted her. West Harbour was gone now, and she had gone her whole life all but loathing the place, never really appreciating that it was her home, and that it had made her the way she was. It was one of the few regrets she had.

Eyes squeezed shut against the mocking tranquillity before her; the young Blackguard cast her mind back to when she had first set foot in Neverwinter. It was still a fresh memory, and even now Esther could smell the salty tang of the Docks, and the comforting smell of ale and vegetable stew from the Sunken Flagon. So many days had passed since then, and so many people. She had pushed most of them away in recent months, her personality getting gradually more prickly as her relationship with Bishop strengthened, and it was only now that she truly realised, and truly cared.

She heard someone step onto the walkway behind her, not trying to cover the sound of their feet. She didn't turn, could already tell who it was by the way he instantly sniffed the air, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Bishop didn't mind the cold, either, or just couldn't feel it after all his time in the wilds.

"I didn't hear you get out of bed. You're learning, girl."

Esther smiled and leant back as the ranger moved up behind her, giving the back of her neck a gentle squeeze with his calloused fingers, a rare moment of affection in an otherwise stormy relationship. She could feel his hand shaking slightly, and there was an undercurrent in his tone that worried her. Had worried her for a few days now.

"I didn't want to wake you. I just needed some time to think." She turned her head as Bishop leant against the wall next to her; now able to look past his rugged good looks at the man she believed she understood beneath. It was a silly notion, but one she clung to. But she wouldn't ask him what was wrong, because that would only push him away, and she'd done enough of that already.

He shrugged as she gave her reasons and looked at the horizon, now blooming with the dull orange glow of the sun. Not a cloud in sight, the promise of a bright day. All the good it would do them.

'_Better appreciate it_,' he thought dismally, not taking his eyes off the sky, '_Not much chance of more sunrises where you're going_.'

Then he turned his golden gaze to Esther, the orange light giving her pale skin a warm glow, making her dark red hair burn like living fire. She was still so young, despite what she'd been through. And she was having an effect on him that he wasn't entirely comfortable with. That much he had realised a few weeks ago, when he'd woke to find her head on his chest and a truly happy smile on her face, the first he'd seen in months, and had realised his heart was fluttering with pride at the fact that he was the one who made her happy. That wasn't right, not at all. That was the kind of stupid thinking that led to strings and mistakes.

Esther was definitely a mistake.

"Well, I'm going back to bed. Are you taking me to the bridges, or can I sleep in."

It wasn't a question, Esther realised, and she smiled sadly as she reached out to run her knuckles along his strong jaw, finding the feel of stubble familiar and comforting. She cupped the back of his neck and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth, dull green eyes closing so she could concentrate on his taste and scent. "I'm taking Zhjaeve and Casavir. You can sleep in."

She turned and dropped back onto the walkway, sweeping her hair off her shoulders and plaiting it loosely. She could hear Bishop's derisive snort, and knew he wasn't happy about her decision, but he'd have to live with it. She wouldn't risk taking more than two of her companions when the Keep was still threatened, and a team of Paladin, Cleric and Blackguard would have devastating effect on the undead, regardless of their numbers.

"Whatever," Bishop muttered before pushing himself away from the wall, following close behind Esther, but not touching her. Her heart ached a little at the loss of contact, but she'd put up with it, just as always.

---

The morning was as expected: bright, clear and promising warmth. Esther wobbled a bit as she placed her foot on the edge of her bed and strapped up her boots, trying to ignore Bishop's complaining at her noise and activity.

"Well I can't get dressed anywhere else, can I? Shut up and go to your own room if you don't like it, ranger."

She smirked a little as he did as he was told, for the moment, knowing the silence wouldn't last for very long. At last her heavy, bespiked armour was on and she could throw on her cloak and golden headband, looking over to give Bishop a knowing look as she strapped her katana on one hip, and Lorne's claimed falchion on the other. He had what, on any other face, would have been a pout, his arms behind his head and hair more ruffled than usual, kohl smudged down his cheeks. Esther leant over the bed to kiss him, and although he leant forward at first she noticed a look in his eyes that made her stop. A cold, angry look that made her freeze and her heart skip a beat. They stayed that way for a few seconds, Esther's eyes wide and confused, Bishop's narrowed to slits but betraying much the same emotion.

He finally turned his head away and closed his eyes, letting out a meaningfully long sigh. "Go on, they'll be waiting. Not like I'm going anywhere."

Esther straightened with a very much displeased look on her face, jaw set and lips pursed into a thin line as she stared down at Bishop's sprawled body.

'_If you want an apology, you can forget it_,' she reminded herself angrily, turning on her heel so her cloak whipped around her, giving Karnwyr a passing scratch behind the ear as he stood when she approached, his tail making dull thuds as it hit a wardrobe with each slow wag.

"See you later, then, if I don't die."

She didn't get a reply, and Esther felt her heart ache again, throwing the door open in frustration so it smacked against the wall and rebounded to close itself over, Karnwyr whining low in his throat as he turned his head to look at Bishop. The ranger just rolled over in bed with his back to the door, eyebrows furrowed as he kept his eyes tightly shut. He realised, with anger, that despite his greatest efforts not to care, he hoped above everything that Esther would come back unharmed.


	2. A Good Start

[AN: Thank you so much for the swift reviews! This chapter was already half written when I posted the first, hence the quick update. The next probably won't be so swift.

Casavir looked decidedly uncomfortable as he followed behind Esther out of Crossroad Keep, her long strides carrying her far as she strode past farmhouses and wheat fields, eyes ahead to where she now knew the undead had gathered. Terrifying her people, destroying their livelihoods. She wouldn't stand for it; her own warped moral code wouldn't let her, despite her usual disregard for right and wrong.

He watched as she smoothly slid her katana out of its sleek, black saya, drawing it up in an elegant arc so the blade glinted in the sun. Zhjaeve gave the paladin a sideways glance, shaking her head with a low sigh that made her veil flutter. She respected the _kalach-cha_, but did not necessarily like her. The girl was too young, too headstrong, and too full of a fire that made her think she was more than she was. She could not comprehend Casavir's affections for her, but supposed he had known Esther longer than the gith had. Perhaps she never used to be this way, and Casavir was clinging blindly to the hope she'd be the same again, one day.

"I can see them now," Esther stated coldly, Bishop's attitude toward her that morning weighing heavily on her mind. She itched for the opportunity to cut something, take her frustrations out. "Ready your weapons, and your minds. We'll wipe these bastards out before lunch."

She began walking, stopping when all three of them were at the top of a gradual incline, below them more houses in farmland that was already rotting from the stench and disease the undead soldiers had brought with them. For the first time in hours, Esther felt her mind go blank. The sound of her blood swelled and pounded in her eardrums, and she smirked viciously. She nodded to Zhjaeve, who tightened her grip on her spear, and edged to the side. The cleric's magic was always key in Esther's plans, and she wouldn't have her getting damaged by any stray arrows. Casavir cleared his throat gruffly and flexed his wrist before unhooking his warhammer from his belt, heavy shield knocking against his leg comfortingly.

Esther let out a shrill whistle to the Greycloaks below, who took only a second to glance up and behold the sight of their Knight-Captain, letting out a cheer as she punched her fist in the air, sword held tightly.

Esther sprung into action at that cry, barrelling down the incline with her sword drawn over her shoulder, sidestepping around a skeleton to whirl the blade down with precision force, using the dull edge of the sword to shatter the skull it came in contact with. The skeleton let out a clattering, unearthly howl before it fell, writhing, to the dirt road, its infernal noise silenced when Esther brought her heavy boot down on its neck to shatter the fragile, exposed bones.

The fight in front of her seemed to lose momentum for a few seconds before the Shadow Priest cried out in frustration, flinging a ray of deadly energy at one of her Greycloaks. The man fell with a burbling cry before his body stilled, but Esther hardly had time to notice. She was moving again, and this time, Casavir was with her.

They worked well together, always had done, and as he smashed through creatures with shield and hammer, Esther ducked under his strong, precise blows with a flurry of stabs and kicks, her fighting style more loose and fluid than the paladin's. His face was set to one of disgust, only flinching once when Esther cleaved off the top of the Shadow Priest's head, a few flecks of gore landing on Casavir's cheek. He frowned as he wiped off the offending lumps, levelling Esther with a serious gaze.

"You are being reckless, Esther. I do not want you to lose yourself because of a lover's quarrel."

Sometimes Esther hated his perceptiveness, but more than that she hated the way he spoke the word 'lover' with such disdain.

"Not like it's any of your business, though," she snapped, wiping her sword on the corpse in front of her before looting it of anything useful that she could fetch later. Zhjaeve had joined them now, and was looking from fuming paladin to crouching Blackguard.

"Know that there are more than this, and we must hurry to take the bridges."

Esther was glad for the excuse to continue, regretting taking Casavir with her despite his uses. They had been so close, once. He had been a man she admired and, for a while, loved. More than a guardian and a friend. But then Bishop had come along, and everything had changed, and whether or not it was for the best was still an unspoken thing. Well, by all except Casavir. Esther could see he wanted to say something, and every time he came close to getting her alone she would find some reason to get away from him. Nothing had ever scared her more than the thought of what the paladin could say to her, because she accepted, deep down, that he knew her better than she knew herself and saw her for what she really was.

They continued along the wide road that wound its way through the lands of Crossroad Keep, taking the first bridge with relative ease and battling up a steep hill to clear the way behind them, leaving no worries of a sneak attack. The undead weren't good with subtlety anyway, Esther had found.

She signalled for Casavir and Zhjaeve, along with the gathered Greycloaks, to stop before they crested the hill. The second bridge was below them, but she was worried she couldn't hear more forces coming to meet them. No battle cries, not even a grunt. She dropped to her stomach and slid up to the tall, coarse grass lining the top of the hill, peering through to the bridge below.

The fact that a Shadow Priest, flanked by only two skeletons, stood there worried her. Clearly, this wouldn't be as easy as first assumed. She turned and frowned at her companions, who sat on their haunches behind her. "I guess we can't prepare for what we can't see, but this won't be easy. Zhjaeve, I want you to get as far back as possible and flame those bastards back to the hells. Casavir…you know what to do. Wait for my signal."

Both nodded and gave each other wary glances, before Esther stood and stared down at the masked priest. He made no move, merely stared back. She could practically feel his hatred all the way up here, and knew he could tell the feeling was mutual.

She kicked the blade of her katana so it swung up lazily to knock against her shoulder, making a loud clang on her darkened armour. The Blackguard walked confidently, arrogantly, a swagger she'd picked up from watching Bishop so often. The thought of him made her smirk falter, and she cursed herself for not bringing him with. It would have been so much easier, on her heart, if nothing else.

She opened her mouth to speak to the priest, but a flash of light off to her right made Esther spin on her heel. Her eyes narrowed in hatred as an all too familiar figure drifted towards the group, his low, taunting chuckle making her feel sick.

"Ah, the Captain of Crossroad Keep…" Garius drawled, twirling his hand in the air and bending at the waist in a mock bow. Esther snarled and tightened her grip on her katana, forcing herself to be restrained, to show some of her famed attitude.

"Did you really think taking those bridges would help? Such a young fool you are, girl. Such a shame," Esther felt his hollow, demonic eyes boring into her, like he was looking into her very soul. She wanted to step back towards Casavir, to feel his aura, but that would be a weakness. And she was strong. She had her own aura to depend on, though she guessed that was the thing making Garius so interested in her. "You do have such spirit, and such a violent one at that. You'd have done well to join my master."

Esther scoffed and spat noisily at the ground by Garius' feet, Casavir sighing silently and turning his eyes skywards. "Piss off," she stated simply, feeling her muscles coil with the building tension of battle, "This Keep is mine, and I'm not letting you get it back. You're a fool if you think that's possible."

"Perhaps," Garius laughed, but he was mocking her again. So confidant, so full of himself. Esther would show him, "Until then, let me show you the true extent of my powers."

Esther groaned inwardly as she heard the familiar moans and grunts and clattering of bones from the narrow pathways running down the side of a rise in front of her. They were surrounded. So much for the undead not sneaking around. Garius said no more as he glanced around at the forces, but threw his hands in the air and cried out a few guttural, archaic words, his magic taking immediate effect to turn the disgusting beasts into behemoths, making Esther recoil in horror. The stench, if nothing else, was unbelievable.

"And now, I will leave you. Please enjoy yourself, Knight-Captain." Esther lunged forward with her katana outstretched, but Garius had already gone in another pillar of blinding light. Her chest rose and fell as she stared around her, covered on all sides. Her Greycloaks were suitably nervous, some sweating, but Zhjaeve and Casavir had their nerves under control. They were prepared for this…in a way.

"You were a fool to have come he—"

The sound of explosions filled the air for a few long seconds, Esther crying out as she stumbled backwards from the heat. She lowered her arms to stare up at the three figures standing on the hilltop before her, eyes widening as Daeghun gazed back down at her, face impassive as always.

"Father…" she breathed, but his expression told her there was no time. She didn't hear his words, though he must have said something, because the ghasts and skeletons were closing in and it was time for Esther to forget thinking, forget speaking, and focus on her adrenaline.

"Zhjaeve, destroy them!" she cried out, instantly running from her companions into the wall of undead before her, ducking and swerving elegantly as her sword cut deadly arcs across their rotting bodies. She shut her eyes just in time as a burning light exploded around her, the sound of screaming not far behind as ghasts were disintegrated where they stood. Esther smiled, knowing she had made the right decision in bringing the gith, and joined Casavir, the two of them working in tandem to keep Zhjaeve protected.

But all too soon the battle turned against them, and the skeletal archers perched high above them took Zhjaeve down with a few well-placed arrows. Esther cried out in frustration and pressed her back close against Casavir's, hearing his laboured breathing as the paladin pressed against her in turn. She glanced over her shoulder at him and he smiled wearily in return, nodding in return, the unspoken signal understood.

Both shut their eyes tight against the approaching enemy, using their turning abilities to send a wave of divine radiance from their bodies, their combined shouts echoing around the small battlefield as their bodies tensed from the exertion. Esther dared not open her eyes, but when she didn't feel the sting of a blade she cracked them open, seeing only the weak, and now vulnerable, archers left. They had done it. The day was theirs.

She and Casavir broke apart to take out the last two enemies in their way without difficulty, though their energy was more than sapped by the time both crouched next to Zhjaeve's body. Casavir felt for a pulse, found one, and used all he had left in him to heal her wounds enough for her to be safely carried. Esther, meanwhile, was looking at Daeghun, her eyes on his cold expression. It seemed he would never be proud of her.

"Well done, child. There is more to do yet, and now is not the time for talking. Men, destroy those bridges!"

'_There's never time for talking with you, old man_.'

The explosions of Grobnar's blast globes could be heard echoing around the Keep lands, and Esther watched from the top of the hill she and Casavir, Zhjaeve in his arms, now stood upon. She looked up at him and felt her cheeks flush slightly with shame, remembering the way she had treated him earlier. He hadn't deserved that.

"I'm sorry, Casavir, for what I said. I was upset."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Esther."

And she didn't deserve his forgiveness, either. Or his affections. She felt a fresh wave of anger ripple through her at his tired smile, his handsome features. Damn him for making her feel so worthless.

"We did well today. Let's go and share the good news."


	3. Once in a Blue Moon

(AN: Dun dun, 'the wall' scene. Bit longer than the other parts, but I didn't want to have to break it up. More mature than the other two, but nothing majorly explicit. What can you expect from Bishop? As always, thank you for reading and reviews.)

They had walked back to the Keep at a gradual pace, too tired to do anything else. Esther had lost some good men that day, and as she passed Greycloaks on the road she bowed her head in respect to them. They deserved that, for all the good work they'd been doing. She'd trained them hard, and they'd seen some tough missions, but morale was always high and there was barely a complaint out of any of them. Esther counted herself lucky.

She and Casavir didn't talk the whole time walking back to the Keep, and by the time they returned to the imposing front gates it was night time, the moon big and round in the inky sky. Esther would have appreciated its beauty, if she didn't know full well that the day had only been the beginning of a much harder battle.

She stepped through the gates and felt her bottom lip tremble at the few who were gathered: Kana, her father and Ammon Jerro. She had desperately wanted Bishop to be there, but cursed herself for a fool again. What, was she expecting him to be there, waiting with arms open and a smile on his face? Pathetic.

"Today was a hard battle, but we pulled through. However, I fear this will not be the last of it."

"My father is correct," Esther sighed, her voice low and husky from her exhaustion, "Our allies came through in timely fashion, but even mere skeletons are deadly under Garius' spell. We have to expect much more tomorrow."

Kana smiled softly and helped lift Zhjaeve down from Casavir's strong arms, letting two of the Greycloaks carry her into the Keep where her wounds could be tended to. She looked at Casavir and Esther, still with that admiring smile on her face, and puffed herself up, shoulders drawn back, "They will rue the day they marched on your lands, Captain. For now, you deserve a hot meal and some rest. We are prepared."

Esther let out a soft laugh; feeling encouraged herself by Kana's pride and enthusiasm. She was a brilliant woman, and Esther would have been lost without her cool and reasonable mind. She was about to bid Casavir goodnight, but he stopped her with a gentle squeeze to her wrist, making her blush slightly and look up at him. Kana cleared her throat and bowed quickly before leaving for the Keep, sensing the mood quite well.

"I need to speak to you, Esther, and I fear we may not have another chance."

"Casavir…"

But the paladin looked so resolute, and Esther had always found it hard to say no to him when he spoke to her like that. Sometimes he really could be so commanding.

"Alright, lead the way. I guess by your tone this will be a private conversation."

He simply nodded curtly and turned to walk towards the walls, Esther following him up the spiralling stone staircase that wound its way up inside one of the watch towers, the two of them taking a moment to gaze at the moon before glancing at each other again. Casavir cleared his throat and looked at his feet for a moment, shifting his stance so he looked like he was a soldier all over again, his hands clasped behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

"There is death in the air this night, Esther. I fear for what the morning will bring."

'_Oh, no, Casavir_,' Esther thought, fighting her urge to back away from him, '_Not now, at all times. I can't handle this_.'

She chose to say nothing, merely looked on and expected him to continue, fidgeting with the hilt of her sword so it rattled slightly in her belt. Casavir paused to wait for her reaction and, seeing none, decided to push on. "And yet I am calm. I feel as though nothing can touch me, when I'm with you. Your presence makes me stronger."

Esther felt her throat tighten with every word he said, her eyes widening as pure realisation dawned. She felt like she could cry, or be sick. How could he say such things to her, after all he'd seen her do? Bishop had always said the paladin was a fool, but Esther had always defended him. Now, however, she was having her doubts.

"Casavir, I don't think this is the time—"

"Then when will be the time?" Esther recoiled at his voice, so softly spoken but harsh at the same time. His eyes seemed to be blazing as they caught the light of the moon, and she found herself hypnotised by them. "I realise that you have changed, that you've opened your bed for that ranger…but that doesn't change the way that I feel. How I have felt for some time."

Esther could see he was fighting his anger, trying not to let it get the best of him. For a moment he closed his eyes tightly and looked away, letting his spell on the young Knight-Captain break so she felt like she could breathe again. Her heart was hammering so fast in her chest, and she just couldn't understand why.

"My heart is yours, Esther, as well as my sword. I will love you and protect you, on my honour as a man."

The paladin took a step towards Esther, his hands lifting as though to pull her into an embrace. But she threw her arms up, guarding herself from him, and stumbled back so she pressed against one of the walls. She had to stop his madness before it got the best of him, and there was only one way she'd ever known to achieve that.

"Then cut yourself. Bleed, to see if I really care." Her voice was shaking slightly, but she was serious. Despite Casavir's laugh, she knew he could tell that too. Could see the way his expression had suddenly shifted to one of mild shock, and even hurt.

"Do it."

She felt sick as she watched his back straighten again, thinking he would drop this silly matter and leave. But he didn't, the damned idiot. Instead he stripped his left hand of his leather glove and reached out towards Esther, slicing a deep gash across his palm on the spikes of her shoulder pad. She heard him hiss with the brief pain and had to look away as he let his hand fall limply at his side, the sound of blood dripping seemingly amplified in their silence.

"And Casavir," she whispered, not daring to look up at him, not wanting to see how his eyes would change with her next words, "If I asked you to cast yourself from these walls for me, would you?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath, but didn't expect the strong hand suddenly holding her chin and turning her to look up at him, into those terrifying eyes again. She shook a little in his grasp but remained resolute, and gradually his grip softened. But he let his hand linger on her face, running his fingertips over her lips and down her neck. "If that is what it would take to show you the conviction with which I feel for you, then yes. I would."

Esther let out a shuddering breath and stepped back from his hand, placing her own on the wall so she could keep herself steady. "Then you are a fool, and I have no use for fools. Only on the battlefield when they'll die for my cause."

His silence hurt Esther more than any words he could have said to her. She would have preferred it if he'd have struck her, shouted at her. Gods, preferred it more than what he did eventually say, in that quiet, humble voice of his.

"Then I see that everything I have ever felt for you was in vain."

Even though she felt like she was at her limit, Esther knew she had to finish this. Hoped to drive him away, to make him leave, so he wouldn't be hurt by her any more. Casavir deserved so much better, and she wished he'd realised that long ago.

"As long as Bishop lives, you are correct."

She shut her eyes and grit her teeth as he left, hearing his breathing deepen slightly as he jogged down the stairs. She didn't watch as he walked towards the Keep again, simply couldn't look at him. When she finally felt as though no one was watching, Esther let her shaking arms and legs give way and collapsed to the cold stone walkway, biting on her bottom lip to stifle her sobs as she wept.

---

Bishop flattened himself against the wall as Casavir came marching into the tower, letting out a near silent sigh of relief as the paladin passed him without noticing, clearly too caught up in his own emotion. He peered out through the hood of his cloak as Esther sank to the floor, watching her body as it quivered from her sobs, hearing her occasional sniffle as she tried to wipe away her tears.

He was torn between pulling her into his arms, calming her, making her realise the paladin was no good…and finding the paladin to beat him half to death for making Esther feel this way.

But both were bad ideas, and it wasn't as though it mattered.

'_What's done is done_.'

He tried not to think of how she'd look at him tomorrow, or what she'd say to him. Tried to banish the image of her broken, defeated body being mocked by Garius and his hordes, paraded around like some trophy. Gods, it hurt, and even when he tried to turn his shame into anger and hatred, he just could. It was too hard, and she'd only been good to him.

But, that was probably part of her plan. She'd talked about how one day she'd want to settle down with a husband, start a family. Claimed she'd had enough adventure in her life to never actively seek it out again. That had scared the hell out of him, even if she hadn't said it was him she wanted.

But what had scared him more was the fact he wished she had. Bishop wanted her to devote herself to him, tell him he was all that mattered. He had dreamed of her rejecting the paladin for so long, dreamed of her breaking his heart. And even though she'd done just that, Bishop was left with an emptiness inside.

So, he had made the right decision. When they were all dead, he could move on. It was just sex, after all, and there were plenty of women more than willing to throw themselves at him.

He cursed under his breath as Esther seemed to gather herself again, giving the moon one last look before she began walking towards the tower. She was watchful, unlike the paladin. Bishop had made sure to teach her that.

He sprinted down the steps as quickly and quietly as he could manage, giving the heavy gates one last look before dodging into the shadows, working his way towards the Phoenix so he could come up with some sort of cover story.

---

The sound of Esther's angry cursing was drowned out by the clattering of armour and weapons in her room as she hastily discarded everything weighing her down. She was angry now, not at Casavir but at herself, and at Bishop for not being here despite what she'd just done for him. For them.

She sat down on the bed and started tugging furiously at her boots, stopping only when she heard the scratching of claws on the door and watched as it was pushed open, Karnwyr nudging it with his head. Behind him stood Bishop, looking ruffled but alert in his usual, casual clothing. At least he hadn't been in bed all day, it seemed, while she was out risking her life.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he said off-handedly, holding the door open and looking at Karnwyr expectantly, who lowered his head and left slowly, clearly not wanting to leave the warmth of the bedroom. Bishop followed him with his eyes before shutting the door, reaching down to take off his belt and tunic without another word, or a reply from Esther.

"What are you doing?" she asked bluntly, not getting undressed herself even if all she wanted to do was fall into bed. Bishop smirked at her dangerously, as he did so many nights, and rid himself of his trousers, chuckling darkly when she averted her eyes and he caught a smile teasing across her lips.

"Getting ready for you," he stated, just as blunt. A flush blossomed on Esther's cheeks, and even as she felt her heart lift itself from its terrible low, and she reached up to start taking off her loose training vest, she tried to be defiant.

"I'm tired, Bishop." But her words trailed off as he approached her, blowing out candles as he went so in the end there was just one torch left to light the room dimly. The light caught his eyes and Esther had to gasp, unable to look away from his unbearably handsome face. She managed to tug off her cotton pants just as he reached her and slid his palms up her thighs, parting his legs so he could move between them. She noticed the way he seemed to be avoiding looking into her eyes, and that worried her. He'd never had a problem with it before.

She was distracted, however, by the feel of stubble against her cheek and his teeth on her ear, his breaths controlled but hot, making a shudder run down her spine. "You're never too tired for me…"

And as always, she let him take her. She didn't put up a protest when she felt Bishop's strong arms wrap around her and roll her onto her stomach, his knees parting her thighs so he could move himself against and inside her body, though she couldn't stop this annoying suspicion that something was terribly wrong with the man.

'_Might as well use her, while she's here_.' Had been Bishop's thought as he'd approached Esther's chambers, his mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts, none of which he could concentrate on. He'd hoped that a last passionate hour with the woman who's bed he had shared for the last few months would quiet them all.

But when he had seen that smile on her face…

So now he held her hair, affectionate but firm, making sure she couldn't turn to look at him with those dull green eyes of hers, shining with emotion when he seemed to look at her for too long. She smiled when he was near her, laughed at his jokes, blushed when he squeezed her hip in public. It was then that she acted like the young woman she should have been, but fate hadn't allowed.

He let out harsh pants against the pale curve of her neck as they moved together, his fingers linked with hers as he placed his hand down on the bed to steady himself, feeling her nails drag across the covers whenever she let out a particularly loud gasp. Eventually he forgot what would happen in only a few hours, what he'd have to do to her. Instead he just concentrated on the way she felt and sounded, and pictured her smiling face despite all his instincts telling him he shouldn't.

And then she had spoken, and her words had shattered his thoughts.

"Bishop, I…I lo—"

"Don't!" he hissed harshly, right against her ear. His grip in her hair tightened slightly, the movement of his hips stilled and he felt her gasp slightly in pain, chest aching with sudden guilt. "Please, don't say it."

He heard her draw in a breath to say something but pulled his hand away from hers to slide his fingers across her lips, shuddering as he felt her tongue dart out along the pads of his fingers, featherlight kisses dusted over his palm. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder; moving his body again to try and drown out the thoughts, do anything to distract not only himself, but her as well.

"Let's leave the words for tomorrow," he paused, feeling his throat tighten as he spoke, "When we've won."


End file.
